


Starry Eyes Sparking Up My Darkest Night

by dexsnursey (nerdy_farm_girl)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Christmas, Friendship, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Sexist Language, sometimes they play hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/dexsnursey
Summary: Tyson’s not ugly, okay? He’d rank himself a solid 7 in the face category, probably an 8 for body. It’s just wrong that he spends a good part of his time feeling inferior or something. It’s rude, really, and he would greatly appreciate it if all the guys just kind of took it down a notch. His ego can’t take this much of a beating."You need to get laid,” Nate argues, fighting back a smile. It’s terrible. “Or you need to somehow get this thing with Gabe out of your system. You’re thirsty as fuck.”Tyson spends a full minute mouthing the words ‘thirsty as fuck’ before he realizes he needs to refute that entire statement. “Whoa, this is not a Gabe thing, first of all, okay? And like, I get laid all the time.” Nate makes a face at that, like he doesn’t believe him for a second. It's downright rude.{Or - Tyson spends a lot of time bitching and being self depreciating before he figures his shit out. Also Nate is the best.}





	Starry Eyes Sparking Up My Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I did it again 
> 
> Not betaed, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.
> 
> Title from Call It What You Want by T Swift because I'm a basic bitch
> 
> No harm was intended by the creation of this fic, and the actions of the characters in no way reflect those of their real life counterparts. If you found this by googling yourself or your friends, save us all the embarrassment and close right out of here immediately.

Tyson didn’t have this much of a complex growing up.

Generally speaking, hockey players are _not_ that attractive. Like, they’re athletes, so of course their bodies are primed and in the best condition they could possibly be in. So on that level, hockey players are attractive. But face wise? Hockey players tend to think they’re hot shit, but flying fists and pucks tend to result in a lot of crooked noses and missing teeth, and you don’t have to be pretty to score pretty goals.

Prior to being called up to the Avs, Tyson never even gave a second thought to his looks. He was an NHL prospect, got to play hockey every damn day, and never had a problem pulling when he went out with the guys. Even had a steady girlfriend there for a while, and she certainly thought he was hot. But then he got called up.

At first, he didn’t pay attention to anything other than keeping that roster spot. Which isn’t to say he didn’t _notice_ that his new captain was not only younger than him, but somehow the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. Which is a lot, considering Gabe was barely twenty years old at the time. And really, Tyson probably would have gotten over it if Gabe was the only weirdly attractive one. But there was Dutchy with his dumb hair and Factor and Martinsen and it just like, keeps getting worse. Nate cut off his greasy hair and suddenly got at least five times hotter and they picked up Bernier and Kerfy has signs at every game and… Tyson’s just, a little peeved, is all.

He’s not _ugly_ , okay? He’d rank himself a solid 7 in the face category, probably an 8 for body. It’s just _wrong_ that he spends a good part of his time feeling inferior or something. It’s rude, really, and he would greatly appreciate it if all the guys just kind of took it down a notch. His ego can’t take this much of a beating.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nate grumbles. Tyson glares as he watches him drink orange juice straight from the carton, wearing too small sweat pants that cling to his enormous ass and thighs and nothing else. He looks… he looks _good_ , which is annoying, because there was a time when Nate was kind of just normal. But because Tyson is destined to be a gremlin for life, Nate gets to have a glow-up at the tender age of twenty two. “People only make a big deal about Gabe,” Nate continues, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well Gabe’s a freak of nature so…” Tyson trails off, raising his eyebrows in a dare. Nate rolls his eyes dramatically before returning the orange juice to the fridge. “And you know what I’m talking about, don’t be dense.”

“Brutes,” Nate sighs and presses his hands to the counter across from Tyson, biceps flexing. Tyson glares. “Maybe this is just a _you_ thing. You need a self confidence boost. There’s plenty of girls that want to go home with you.”

“I don’t care about – that’s just not the point, dude.” Tyson grimaces at the granite counter top. What does Nate even need granite counters for, he doesn’t even have parties or know how to cook or anything. It’s pretentious is what it is, and Tyson hates it.

“No, it _is_ the point, you need to get laid,” Nate argues, fighting back a smile. It’s terrible. “Or you need to somehow get this thing with Gabe out of your system. You’re thirsty as fuck.”

Tyson spends a full minute mouthing the words ‘ _thirsty as fuck_ ’ before he realizes he needs to refute that entire statement. “Whoa, this is _not_ a Gabe thing, first of all, okay? And like, I get laid all the time.” Nate makes a face at that, like he doesn’t believe him for a second. Tyson flips him off. “Also, who says _thirsty_ in real life? Who are you? Is this how the youths talk these days?”

“ _Youths_?” Nate giggles. “What are you, like 80?” Tyson just continues to glare at him, because he’s trying to prove something. “And this is totally a Gabe Thing,” Nate continues, sobering. “Everything with you is a Gabe Thing.”

“Wrong!” Tyson shouts. “This is not about Gabe, this is about you and Kerfy and Dutchy and Willy and Berny and-“

“Stop.” Nate holds up a hand. “Fine. Whatever. You still need to get laid.”

* * *

 

Nate drags Tyson out to some bar after their game in Tampa, claiming that no one pays attention to hockey down here and Tyson can pick up whoever he wants. He probably didn’t mean that Tyson should find a guy with golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and an ass that won’t quit, but well, he didn’t give Tyson any ground rules so…

The intention probably also wasn’t for Tyson to end up pressed against a bathroom stall door, fingers buried in soft blonde hair and his breath coming in sharp paints. He feels a little guilty, when Kevin pulls off his dick all sloppy, with a long string of saliva hanging from his lip and says, “you can fuck my mouth, if you want”, and Tyson imagines a voice a little bit different than a soft southern drawl. Tyson feels even guiltier when he pulls Kevin to his feet and pushes him against the wall, pretending he’s taller and broader and calls Tyson mean names instead of begging for his touch. He feels the guiltiest when he’s tucking his dick back in his pants and Kevin asks for his number, eyes soft and cheeks flushed. Tyson can’t say no, though he makes sure to mention that he actually lives in Colorado, and is only here for the weekend.

Nate seems to be oblivious to all of Tyson’s issues though, high fiving him when he emerges from the bathroom and only smirking a little bit as he gives Kevin a once over. They head back to the hotel soon after, Nate tipsy and stumbling and Tyson can’t help but wish he was five times drunker and much less situationally aware. It gets worse when Gabe pokes his head out of his hotel room as Nate fumbles with their key card, singing and laughing and acting like an absolute idiot. Gabe’s hair is all mussed like he’s been asleep, eyes soft and his smile softer, and Tyson kind of wants to cry. Or die. Or both, really. “You two are a mess,” Gabe laughs, and Tyson continues wishing he was drunker, instead of sober with wet spots on his khakis.

“Brutes finally got laid,” Nate announces, grinning and attempting to slap Tyson proudly on the back. He ends up mostly stroking his chest, as if this entire situation wasn’t humiliating enough. Gabe raises his eyebrows like he’s _surprised_ , and Tyson kind of wants to just melt seamlessly into the wall behind him.

“Gimme that,” he snaps, ripping the keycard from Nate’s fingers and shoving it roughly into the slot. He pushes the door open with more force than necessary, sending a grim smile in Gabe’s direction before yanking Nate firmly inside and flipping the lock across the door. Tyson leans his forehead against it and just tries to breathe and not think about the fact that this, in all reality, might be a Gabe Thing after all.

“Tyssssss,” Nate groans from behind him. “The room’s spinning… I don’t feel so good.”

Tyson sighs and steels his spine. It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

 

In Miami, there’s a bunch of girls sitting against the glass with signs. That alone isn’t unusual, but the fact that they’re wearing Avs jerseys and the signs say things like “I’m Finally 18 Gabe!” and “Put it in my five hole MacKinnon!” is just… aggravating. It’s not even that Tyson wants to have inappropriate things written about him on paper, because honestly it would make him uncomfortable, it’s just the principle of the whole thing. Like _why_ aren’t there any signs about him. What’s so great about Landy that he doesn’t have? (Okay, he _knows_ , but still).

“Landy’s even got pussy waiting for him in Florida,” Rants grumbles as they stand for the national anthem, elbows bumping. “Lucky bastard.”

“Like finding a bunny will be difficult for you,” Tyson grumbles under his breath, ignoring the sharp look he gets in return. It’s whatever. He’s not here to fuck, he’s here to play hockey. And in all reality, he’s way better at hockey than he is with anything to do with feelings, relationships, and hard-ons. So there’s that.

Ekblad is five years younger than Tyson but he looks about ten years older, and Tyson is sure to tell him exactly that as he steals the puck right off his stick. It earns him a solid body check against the boards, complete with a sneaky punch to the side and a snarled “ _at least I get my dick sucked_ ”. Tyson is determined to come up with some impressively witty comeback to that, but before he can think of anything scathing enough Gabe pushes his way in between them. Tyson rolls his eyes, because he does not need to be rescued, thank you very much, but Gabe’s got that kind of wild look going that means he might do something stupid that’ll get him thrown in the box. So instead of bitching about it Tyson pushes off the glass.

“Good one,” Tyson spits at Ekblad, before attempting to nonchalantly push Gabe away towards the face-off circle. It takes him a second but Gabe seems to shake it off, skating off after giving Tyson a thorough once over as if checking to make sure he’s still in one piece. Tyson kind of wants to make a big deal about it, kind of wants to replay everything that happened in the last minute and a half over and over again, kind of wants to analyze each of Gabe’s facial expressions and try to figure out exactly what they mean. Instead, he gets into position and glares halfheartedly across the ice at Ekblad. The analysis can come later.

Bernie shuts out the Panthers, and everybody wants to party. They are in Miami, after all, but after Tampa Tyson kind of wants to just order too much room service while watching The Proposal and crying a little bit. Instead, he gets Nate staring at him in the mirror while messing with his hair, long enough that it’s starting to get weird.

“ _What_?” Tyson asks finally, pulling another pillow to his chest with a scowl. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Landy was hovering tonight,” Nate says, as if Tyson’s supposed to know what he’s talking about. “He wanted to fight anyone that touched you.”

And really, Tyson’s face should _not_ be getting red. This is utterly preposterous. “That is so untrue, where do you even come up with this shit?”

“Eks _legally_ checked you, after you asked him if he had to start using Just for Men on his beard, by the way, and Gabe almost punched him in the face,” Nate explains in that voice like he thinks Tyson is being dense. “Not to mention when _you_ tripped Barkov and somehow Gabe ended up trading blows with Haley and taking a major for fighting.”

“Maybe Gabe just needs to get laid,” Tyson snaps. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of girls waiting for you guys at the club.” And maybe he’s being immature, but whatever. He learned a long time ago that there’s no use getting his hopes up, it only ends in ugly tears and heartache.

“Uh… you’re coming out,” Nate says, like this is something Tyson’s not allowed to say no to.

Tyson shakes his head. “I’m falling in love with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds at the same time.”

Nate rolls his eyes so hard Tyson thinks for a moment they might fall right off and roll away. “You’ve watched that movie a hundred times, we’re in fucking Miami dude, you’re coming out.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Tyson finds himself squished between EJ and Nate in a round booth, lights blinking green and red and purple in time with the beat of some electronic music. It’s absolutely terrible, except for the fact that EJ keeps ordering them both margaritas and how Nate has his arm slung around Tyson’s shoulders. They’re watching the rookies attempt to pick up girls on the dance floor, which is pretty funny considering that fact that awkward hockey boys have nothing on the suave Miami natives with their white linen pants and gold chains. Some girls seems to take pity on them at least, one of them patiently teaching Kerfy how to move his hips and another swaying slowly with her lips pressed against Sam’s ear.

“Look at this idiot,” EJ giggles, pointing towards the bar on the other side of the dance floor. Tyson follows his gaze, resolutely ignore the way his stomach kind of flips over on itself at the sight of Gabe squinting in the flashing lights.

“Landy!” Nate practically screams in Tyson’s ear, waving both arms in the air obnoxiously. Tyson kind of wants to kill him, but he gets distracted by the way Gabe’s face absolutely lights up when he spots them. He then proceeds to attempt to fight his way across the dance floor with a beer clenched in one hand, which Tyson can tell from the start is going to be a disaster. At least three different girls and two guys try to get him to dance with them, and he almost gets crushed a couple of times, and by the time he makes it to their booth he’s almost out of breath.

“That looked like fun,” EJ says, slurping obnoxiously at his margarita. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay out and dance with the rookies. Team bonding.”

“You know I only dance to ABBA,” Gabe says seriously, his mouth twitching in the corners as he climbs over Rants and inserts himself between Tyson and EJ. “Are you guys really drinking frozen drinks?”

“Hey! This is a hater free zone that you just entered,” Tyson squawks, motioning between himself, EJ, and their drinks. “If you’re gonna be mean go sit with Comes and Bernie.”

“I heard that!” Comes yells from the next booth over. “We’re not _mean_ , we’re adults.”

“I’m twenty six!” Tyson yells back, which just makes both tables laugh, and Gabe’s all pressed up against him, and suddenly he’s not so mad at Nate for dragging him out anymore.

“Can I get anybody anything else?” The waitress who has been taking care of them asks, her eyes lingering for a moment on Gabe. Tyson wants to be perturbed, but he can’t really blame her. He’s also distracted by EJ leaning around Gabe and doing something complicated with his eyebrows that he _thinks_ means ‘do you want another round’ in EJ speak. He nods, laughing when EJ’s face lights up.

“Me and Brutes’ll have another round,” he announces grandly, grinning when the waitress makes a face like she thinks it might be a bad idea.

“Okay,” she says, drawing out the sound. “Anyone else?” Nate gets another beer, Yaki and Rants order vodka cranberries, and then her eyes settle on Gabe.

“So,” Gabe starts, with his L.L. Bean Fall Catalogue Smile. “I’ve been informed that I am now part of the hater free zone, which apparently means drinking girly drinks and not being mean, so I was wondering if you could tell me exactly what it is my buddies here are drinking, and also tell me your name, please?”

The waitress actually blushes, and really Gabe has no business going around being so god damn charming. It’s rude, and hazardous, and Tyson would hate it if he wasn’t so busy trying not to actively flutter his eyelashes like an idiot.

“Um, Eliza,” the waitress says, smiling. “And this is our feature frozen margarita, it’s made with Silver Patrón, triple sec and peach schnapps.” She pauses, as if considering whether or not to keep talking. “It’ll knock you on your ass.”

Gabe laughs at that, clear and carefree, leaning into Tyson as he does. “Yeah, I’ll have one of those,” he says. “Thank you, Eliza.”

“You know, you don’t _have_ to flirt with everyone you come across,” Tyson grumbles when she walks away, absolutely not watching Gabe’s throat as he chugs down the rest of his beer. He feels more than hears Nate sigh against his other side, which is just uncalled for.

“I wasn’t flirting!” Gabe splutters, as if he’s actually affronted by that accusation. Much to Tyson’s pleasure EJ rolls his eyes, attempting to demurely sip from his drink.

“Oh please,” EJ flutters his eyelashes. “ _Why don’t you tell me your name, sweetie? Aren’t I cool making fun of my friends in front of you?_ ” His falsetto impression of Gabe is absolutely terrible, but Tyson laughs anyways, more at the disgusted look on Gabe’s face than anything else.

“I thought this was a hater free zone,” Gabe grumbles, a flush appearing high on his cheeks. “You two are totally hating on _me_.”

“Aww are wittle Wandy’s feewings hurt?” EJ coos, scooting impossibly closer to Gabe and wrapping an arm around him. “It’s otay, Tys and Ewik will kiss you better.”

Nate lets out the most obnoxious snort, and really, Tyson should have known that the night would come to this. He could be cuddled up in bed watching Ryan Reynolds chop wood, but instead he’s dealing with whatever bullshit this is. Of course, he could just not participate, but EJ is peppering kisses all over Gabe’s face, complete with loud smooching noises, and Tyson really doesn’t want to miss out on the fun. So he digs his fingers into Gabe’s ribs and presses kisses mostly to his hair, until Gabe is giggling and squirming and keeps knocking his knees into the table and sloshing beer all over the place.

“Wow,” Eliza says when she returns with their drinks, giving the three of them a wide berth as she starts handing them out.

“We’re just initiating Gabriel into the hater free zone,” EJ explains, arm still wrapped around Gabe’s neck in a headlock. “The margs will finish the ritual.”

“Have fun with that,” Eliza says, shaking her head before walking quickly away. She deserves a big tip for this.

“I hate you all,” Gabe pouts, taking a long sip of his margarita. He smacks his lips thoughtfully, and Tyson carefully focuses on not chubbing up in his pants. “Except for you Nail, you’re alright.”

“Hey!” Nate squawks. “I didn’t even do anything! And neither did Mikko!”

“I do not want any part in this,” Rants grumbles, purposefully switching from the seat next to EJ to the open spot next to Yaki.

“You’re an accomplice in anything he does,” Gabe explains to Nate, jabbing a finger in Tyson’s face. Tyson snaps his teeth at it playfully, and Gabe giggles and pulls his hand away, this smile on his face that makes Tyson’s chest feel too tight. “Don’t _bite me_ , Tyson.”

“I thought you were into biting,” EJ says under his breath, causing Teri to choke on his drink enough that Nate has to start slapping him on the back.

“Shut _up_ ,” Gabe hisses, his cheeks burning darker and his hair flopping in his face. His eyes are still sparkling though, and Tyson can’t help the want pooling deep in his stomach as he watches him take another sip. And really, it’s EJ’s fault that he’s imagining setting his teeth against Gabe’s throat, into the meat of his shoulder, the curve of his hip. His face feels hot thinking about the noises Gabe would make, squirming beneath him with dark eyes and parted lips. Tyson shifts uncomfortably in his seat, praying the colorful lights of the club hide the flush rising on his skin. Judging by the smirk spreading across Nate’s stupid face, it does _not_.

“So, do you like being the biter or the bitee?” Nate asks, all innocent like he isn’t actively ruining Tyson’s life.

“Yeah so, we’re going to go dance,” Yaki announces, shaking his head and pushing Rants out of the booth. “You guys can be weird together.”

Gabe kind of looks like he wants to follow them, but judging by the gleeful grin on EJ’s face, his chances of escape are slim to none. “Come on Landy, enlighten us.”

“I do not – this isn’t – we are _not_ having this conversation,” Gabe stumbles. He starts to chug down his margarita, fast enough that he stops and grimaces. “Fuck, brain freeze.”

“I feel like I’ve seen bite marks on him,” Nate muses.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Gabe groans. “Why are you guys like this?”

“Yeah guys, let’s talk about something else,” Tyson whines, as if he’s trying to have Gabe’s back and not just trying to hold on to the last shreds of his dignity.

“You’re the one who tried to bite him all sexy like,” EJ says, giggling dumbly at the end and reaching across Gabe and Tyson to bump Nate’s fist. Tyson mouths the words ‘ _sexy like’_ and tries not to notice the way Gabe’s blush has yet to recede.

“First of all, _no_ ,” Tyson snaps, attempting to put on an unimpressed face. Which, judging by the way EJ’s still giggling at him, he’s totally failing. “Second of all, I could be watching the cinematic masterpiece that is The Proposal, and instead I’m spending it with you chumps, so can we please be _normal_ for once.”

“You would be into rom coms,” Gabe laughs. Tyson scowls at him.

“Have you ever seen The Proposal?”

“Well no, but – “

“You don’t get an opinion then!” Tyson interrupts him, latching on to this argument like a lifeline. At least arguing with Gabe is much more manageable than having to discuss his kinks. “Come on Nathan, back me up.”

“It is a pretty great movie,” Nate says, like the best bro he absolutely is. “Sandra Bullock’s like mean, but hot…”

“See, Nate’s admitting that people being nasty to him is a turn on,” EJ says, sly, which makes Nate splutter and Gabe groan. Tyson kind of hates him, a little bit.

“Dude, maybe _you_ need to get laid,” he suggests, because he’s never really been afraid to be a little mean.

“Yeah,” Nate chimes in, and Tyson immediately regrets his words. “Brutes got his dick sucked the other night and he’s totally chill now.”

“Wow, we are _so_ not talking about this,” Tyson grumbles. He can feel Gabe staring at the side of his face, but instead choses to glare at the wide, toothless grin EJ’s sporting.

“Come on man,” EJ begs. “Give us the deets.”

“There are no deets, Jesus Christ.”

“He was hot and blonde,” Nate supplies, and really, Tyson should have cut him off half an hour ago apparently.

“ _Nate_ ,” he hisses, hitting him in the stomach, hard.

“What,” Nate shrugs. “They _know_ , you should be bragging, the guy was like, surfer hot. All blonde and tan and shit. He had really blue eyes…” Nate trails off, his eyes going wide, as if he’s just finally putting two and two together. Tyson is going to kill him.

“Hot blonde, huh?” EJ says, seemingly oblivious. “You and every other hockey player.”

And that, that is something Tyson can work with. “Dude, weren’t like all your ex’s blondes? You have no room to talk.”

“Yeah but I feel like dark haired guys are hotter?” EJ argues. Tyson is unable to hold back a laugh at that. “You know, the whole tall, dark and handsome thing?”

“So, what you’re really saying is that Landy couldn’t possibly be the hottest captain in the NHL cause he’s blonde?” Tyson practically crows. The triumphant feeling only lasts for the few precious seconds that he gets to watch EJ’s mouth open and close helplessly as he scrambles to formulate a response.

“Well who do _you_ think is the hottest captain?” Gabe half squawks, like he’s offended. Beside him, Nate is shaking with giggles, and Tyson really, really hates his entire life.

“Chara,” Tyson snaps, carefully keeping his expression blank and defiantly meeting Gabe’s gaze. It’s a challenge, to keep from laughing, as confusion, horror and amusement battle for dominance on Gabe’s face. Eventually Gabe manages to carefully smooth out his expression, lips lifting in a sideways smirk that definitely isn’t making Tyson’s pants feel too tight or anything.

“I think he’s married,” Gabe says, carefully, like he’s going to try and reason with Tyson about this. “So, who’s your second choice?” Behind him, EJ might be choking on his margarita, but Tyson is having trouble focusing on anything other than not drowning in Gabe’s eyes.

“Um,” Tyson tries to come up with something, anything that will be mildly funny. He wants to say Roman, because Roman is clearly a beautiful man, but it feels like that would be crossing some sort of line. “Sedin,” he lies, which is probably mean, but it at least has Nate barking out a laugh against his side.

“Really?” Gabe’s eyebrows jump higher, which is impressive considering the size of his forehead. He’s kind of smirking still, like he knows Tyson’s lying, but he also kind of looks ticked off. It’s just like, sort of hot, is all. “That’s who you’re going with.”

“He’s got a big dick?” Tyson offers, which sets EJ and Nate off again, and effectively derails the conversation into who, hypothetically, has the biggest dick in the NHL. There’s a lot of different variables to discuss, and Tyson happily goes along with it. And if Gabe keeps shooting him weird looks for the rest of the night, so be it.

On the walk back to the hotel, Tyson somehow ends up walking beside Gabe, their shoulders bumping every other step. He didn’t even try for this to happen, but Nate has his arms slung over Kerfy and Sam’s shoulders, passing on some undoubtedly terrible wisdom about hangover cures involving raw eggs and whiskey. EJ had gone to a bar with Yaki, Rants and a couple of girls, apparently taking Tyson’s words about getting laid to heart. Not that he minds walking with Gabe, obviously, but like, it’s not like he ever acts like a normal human around him.

“You didn’t wanna pick up?” Tyson asks, quiet in the soft glow of the streetlights. Gabe shakes his head and smiles at him, everything about him soft in the shadows. For a second, Tyson lets himself pretend this is something he gets to have, imagines reaching out for Gabe’s hand, backing him up against a side of a building and kissing him between giggles.

“Chara and Sedin, really?” Gabe asks, pulling Tyson from his day dream. He can’t help but laugh at that, a little bit because he’s clearly full of shit, but mostly because Gabe still looks personally offended.

“Dude, come on,” Tyson laughs, bumping his shoulder against Gabe’s. And maybe those peach margaritas really were stronger than he thought, because his self-preservation instincts evaporate completely. “You know you’re number one in my book. Do you really need me to stroke your ego right now? Like uncle, or whatever.”

“Yeah?” Gabe asks, and he sounds genuinely pleased, his lips lifting into a smile. “Even over Roman and Jamie?”

“Jamie’s an idiot,” Tyson says immediately, because dragging his best friends is the only way he knows to show affection. “And Roman’s meaner than you are, so…” He sighs. “Can we like, _not_ keep talking about this.”

Gabe grins and slings his arm around Tyson’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Sure buddy, now that I know where I stand.”

“God, I hate you,” Tyson grumbles, wrapping an arm around Gabe’s waist anyways. Judging by the way Gabe laughs and squeezes him, Tyson’s not the only one who knows he’s lying.

* * *

 

Altitude is having them film something for the holidays, and as usual Tyson has been roped into it. They’re interviewing him and Gabe together, which on its own is just a uniquely terrible punishment, but what’s worse is for some reason they stuck EJ and Nate together. Tyson scowls as he watches the two of them geek out, leaning against each other with EJ’s tongue sticking out where his front teeth should be. There’s a distinctly uneasy feeling building in the pit of Tyson’s stomach; only bad things come from Nate and EJ laughing together.

“I never get to film stuff with EJ,” Gabe grumbles beside him, this pout on his face that should probably look childish but just makes Tyson want to kiss him. It’s terrible.

“Tough bounce, bud.” Tyson knows he doesn’t sound nearly as sympathetic as he probably should, but whatever. Gabe’s not the only one that has some best friend jealousy going on.

“So,” Lauren says, this smirk on her face that Tyson has come to associate with things like being asked to write a Valentine’s Day card to Gabe, or having to answer questions like who has the best hair. “Who would you say is your best friend on the team? Other than each other, of course.” Tyson narrows his eyes, because the answer is _obvious_ and he is very uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

“Tyson,” Nate says quickly, eyes flickering over to him almost imperceptibly. “He’s like my brother or something.”

“That’s sweet,” Lauren coos, and Tyson would be inclined to agree except for the way Nate is smirking. “How about you, Erik?”

“Probably Landy,” EJ muses. “He brought my teeth to me once. It really bonded us together.” EJ blows a kiss at Gabe.

“So if you guys were to pick out the perfect Christmas presents for Tyson and Gabe, what would they be? You know them best, so…” Lauren trails off on what should be a perfectly innocent question. But Tyson’s entire body has gone stiff, cold fear seizing his spine at the look in Nate’s eyes.

“Oh I know,” Nate starts, turning to grin at EJ. EJ smirks back, which can only mean horrific things are about to happen. “This is just like, if I could really get him _anything_ , right?” Lauren nods, all innocent and cute, and Tyson hates her, just for a second.

“So I dunno ‘bout Tys, but Landy really needs someone to cuddle up with at night,” EJ explains, all serious.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gabe groans, leaning heavily against Tyson’s side.

“I knew we were on the same page!” Nate crows, all proud, seemingly oblivious to the absolute murder Tyson is shooting in his direction.

“Oh well, that’s um,”

Nate cuts Lauren off, clearly running with this. “Tyson like tall blondes… thick… he’s a… butt man...” He’s staring at Gabe as he talks, as if it’s not obvious enough. “Blue eyes… must love dogs… a little but mean is good too…”

“See now,” EJ cuts in, looking absolutely gleeful. “Gabe likes little brunettes, good sense of humor, eyebrows on fleek, looks kind of like that cowboy from-“

“That’s enough!” Gabe shouts, pushing past the camera guy to slap a hand over EJ’s mouth. “What I’d really like for Christmas,” he says into the camera, grinning too wide and mean. “Is a new best friend.”

“Woof,” Nate says, making a face like he isn’t toeing the very same line.  

“Yeah, this interview is canceled,” Tyson announces, stepping in front of all three of them and facing the camera with his hands on his hips. “And for the record, my only real qualifications for a date is the mutual love of ice cream, so you can jot that down.”

“Okay, thanks Tyson,” Lauren says, like the true professional she is. To be fair, she’s handled a lot more shenanigans than this, but whatever. “Actually, why don’t we pull up two more chairs and just interview the four of you together.” Which is how Tyson ends up once again squished in between Nate and Gabe. This time, there’s a lot less alcohol and a lot more cameras, and he’s seriously contemplating murder.

“So Tyson and Gabe,” Lauren continues. “We’ve asked Nate and EJ what they would get you for Christmas, what would you each get them?”

“Gold teeth,” Gabe laughs. “It would be so gangster.”

“Wow, I want to get you a… a warm body and you’re going to get me _teeth_? Maybe I do need a new best friend.” EJ’s still grinning though, especially when Gabe turns his eyes towards the ceiling in a silent prayer.

“Well, I would give Nate a hug,” Tyson cuts in, slinging his arm around Nate’s shoulders and grinning smarmily. “It’s what he deserves.”

“I was being _discreet_ ,” Nate hisses, as if they aren’t actively being filmed right now. “Come on.”

“Also concert tickets,” Tyson adds, not wanting to look like a bad friend on camera. “For just the two of us.”

“You wouldn’t get four tickets so we all could go?” EJ cuts in, leaning across Gabe. “Come on, it would be fun.”

“No, I’ve been to concerts with you, it’s always a disaster,” Nate says. Lauren makes a face like this interview is a disaster. Which… true.

“Okay, guys, back on track.” She claps her hands once, grinning when they all straighten up and look at her. “Let’s talk about your favorite Christmas present from childhood.”

That question seems to get the interview back on a more normal course, and it’s actually kind of fun, gently chirping each other as they talk about their first pair of skates and eating too much candy before breakfast. It’s only when Tyson watches the clips a few days later that he notices the way him and Gabe are leaning into each other, hands on shoulders and thighs and smiling too close to each other’s faces. To an outsider it’s probably not noticeable, they’re all kind of all over each other anyways, but Tyson can’t help but worry that someone is going to listen to Nate’s description and see Gabe sitting there and just… _know_.

“First of all,” Nate says around a slice of pizza from his favorite spot on Tyson’s bearskin rug. “People are going to assume I’m talking about a chick.” They’d just watched the clip together, and Tyson’s freaking out a little bit. “Secondly, me, EJ _and_ Gabe all fit that description too, so like… what the fuck ever dude. Relax. Gabe’s the one who should be worried.”

“What? Gabe? Why?”

Nate stares at him for a minute like he’s stupid, before backing up the video. _Little brunettes, good sense of humor, eyebrows on fleek, looks like that cowboy from_ , he hears EJ’s voice saying the words, easily conjuring up an image of one of the ice girls who looks exactly like that. Well, except for the cowboy thing, he has no idea what that’s about. “Yeah and?” Tyson asks, shrugging. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t…” Nate trails off before sinking back down on the rug in defeat. “For someone who’s watched so many rom coms, you’re absolutely clueless.”

Tyson shrugs and takes another slice of pizza. He has no idea what that means, and for once, he doesn’t even care.

* * *

 

“Me and Josty got invited to a party tonight,” Comphy whispers after the game, his hair wet from the shower. Tyson narrows his eyes. “The chick I’ve been talking to has this one friend who’s tall and blonde, thick as hell too man, I think she’s DTF.” Normally, Tyson would think JT is trying to play some sort of joke on him, but he sounds so sincere that he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“What are you talking about?” Tyson hisses back, yanking his pants up over his thighs. Comphy looks almost _pitying,_ and it becomes clear that Tyson and Nate weren’t the only ones who watched the holiday video.

“I got your back bro,” Comphy says, with a god damn wink, and Tyson kind of wants to die. On one hand, Tyson wants to just go home and maybe watch the video again and analyze all of Gabe’s micro expressions, but on the other hand, this chick does sound pretty hot.

“Fine,” Tyson sighs, pulling a shirt over his head. “Can Nate come?”

Comphy grins, like he’s legitimately pleased. “Of course bro, this is gonna be sick.”

As it turns out, the girl in questions is hotter than all get out. Her name is Kara and she’s a rugby player wearing a teeny tiny black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination and high heels even though it’s December in Denver. Kara has long, straight, platinum blonde hair, and when she laughs her eyes crinkle in the corners. She’s absolutely beautiful.

Tyson tries, he really does. He dances with her and kisses her a little bit, lets her lead him to a vacant bathroom and lock the door behind them. His skin feels too hot as she hikes her dress up over her hips, revealing a little lace thong.

“Um,” he chokes out, swallowing hard around nothing. Kara smirks, and it sends electricity zinging down his spine.

“You gonna lift me up on this counter big boy?” She practically purrs. Tyson kind of wants to die. “Or do I have to do everything myself?” And Tyson, Tyson knows how to do this part. He steps forward and kisses her, backing her up towards the counter before wrapping his hands beneath her thighs and easily lifting her. Kara seems to like that, wrapping her legs are his waist and pushing her hands up beneath his shirt. “I want your dick,” Kara whispers against his ear, warm and wet, and really, Tyson’s not going to argue with that.

The next day, he’ll regale the boys in the locker room with the story of the sexy rugby player who fucked him in the bathroom at a house party. He’s sure Kara will be doing the same, bragging about seducing a professional hockey player or how she made him come embarrassingly quickly. But he’ll only tell Nate, after he’s downed two beers in quick succession, about how Kara reminded him uncomfortably of Gabe, with her cocky attitude and the shape of her eyes and the way her smile went a little mean when she called him _Big Boy_.

“So, you won’t be bringing her to the Christmas party then,” Nate says, his mouth full of chocolate cake. Tyson shakes his head sadly, helping himself to some chocolatey goodness.

“I need to find someone like, in my own league,” Tyson says, waving his fork vaguely in the air. “I think you were right, I have some sort of complex. I need a fellow ugly.”

“Ugh,” Nate groans. “You’re not ugly, come on Brutes. Maybe you just need to open your eyes.”

“How is that going to help anything,” Tyson grumbles, scooping up some more cake. “I don’t need to look at anymore hot people.”

Nate just sighs.

* * *

 

The Avs Christmas party is about as much of a disaster as it always is.

It starts out pretty tame, with Tyson entertaining the older guys’ kids and flirting with their wives in the nonthreatening way that tends to earn him eye rolls and big smiles. Him and Nate start drinking eggnog about an hour in – the spiked kind, much to the disapproval of several of their teammates. But they keep it under control, for an hour at least, buzzing from room to room and probably eating too much chocolate and pigs-in-blankets in the process. It’s around hour three, when Tyson’s cup has become more rum than eggnog and EJ has challenged him to some kind of contest that includes balloons and wearing a red union suit, that things start to go downhill.

Like, it’s not his fault that Gabe is just looking particularly devastating tonight. Gabe should know better than to walk around in some tight ass dark wash jeans and ankle boots and a sweater that looks exactly like how boyfriend material is supposed to feel. The room is warm, and Gabe’s cheeks are flushed, and he has Comes youngest daughter asleep against his chest, and Tyson is pretty sure this circumstance has been specifically designed to torture him personally.

“Hey,” Gabe says, all soft, when he catches Tyson staring at him. “Nice outfit.” Tyson scowls down at his union suit stuffed with balloons, and strokes the fake beard hanging undoubtedly unattractively from his ears. It’s whatever, he fucking beat Johnson’s toothless ass (probably only because he’s smaller, but he’s not going to mention that), and Gabe’s still smiling at him so...

“Have you been good this year?” Tyson asks in a fake deep voice. Gabe’s smile goes wide and sharp, and Tyson realizes abruptly that this naughty or nice trail of questioning is only going to lead to bad things.

“I dunno, Santa,” Gabe says, rubbing his hand across the baby’s back. “You tell me.” And really, no one has any right sounding like pure sex while holding a child. Suddenly Tyson is very grateful for the layer of balloons surrounding his entire body and camouflaging the boner he’s probably going to be sporting any time now.

“Ha ha,” Tyson starts, hoping that maybe this stupid beard hides the flush on his face. “You’ve certainly racked up a lot of penalty minutes in the past year, would you call that nice behavior?”

Gabe’s grin fades into a smirk, his eyes dark and warm, and there’s a possibility that Tyson drank way too much eggnog. “Well Santa, I don’t know about you but…” Gabe’s voice comes out lower than usual. It’s downright rude, is what it is. “Some people think it’s hot.”

“Yeah so, my child is not getting in the middle of whatever this is,” Lacey Comeau says. Tyson blinks, though he’s unable to break eye contact with Gabe even as she scoops her daughter up and walks away while shaking her head.

“Why don’t you come over here and tell me what _you_ want for Christmas,” Gabe offers, patting at his knee. Tyson’s moving towards him without really thinking it through, but he’s already planning on blaming all of this on the alcohol in the morning.

“Pretty sure this is supposed to be the other way around,” he grumbles, even as he turns and attempts to plant his ass on Gabe’s lap. Of course, he didn’t consider the whole balloons thing. They don’t pop, which would have drawn a lot of unneeded attention to him and Gabe and whatever exactly is happening here. But clearly, things must go down the even more humiliating route, which means Tyson sits, lands on the balloons, attempts to balance himself, and slowly slides off Gabe’s lap to the floor. The impact with the floor is what makes the balloons start to pop, loud enough that some of the girls scream. Naturally, everyone turns to look at him, sprawled on the floor at Gabe’s feet, wearing a union suit and a fake beard, and really nothing has ever been as symbolic of Tyson’s life than this.

He just lays there for a moment, closing his eyes against the flash of what is undoubtedly Nate’s camera. The thought is that maybe if he just like, plays dead, everyone will go away eventually. It actually seems to work, conversation starting back up again after a moment or two. Theatrics aren’t exactly uncommon on this team anyways.

“Hey Santa?” Tyson opens his eyes to find Gabe leaning over him, an all too pleased grin on his face. He looks almost fond though, and it makes this whole fiasco worth it. “Maybe you should change into something more comfortable.”

Tyson closes his eyes and groans. “I need another drink.”

Later, when he’s gotten rid of the balloons and the suit and had several more glasses of eggnog, Tyson finds himself back on Gabe’s lap.

Okay – yes, he knows how it sounds, but it’s not like _that_. There’s like five of them on one couch, and they’re all very drunk and battling at Mario Kart, and Gabe refused to move when it was Tyson’s turn to play. So clearly the obvious solution is to just sit on him. Tyson half expected Gabe to squirm out of the way after a moment or two, but Gabe seems pretty content, going so far as to pull Tyson back against is chest so he can hook his chin over Tyson’s shoulder.

Rants, Yaki and Barbs don’t seem to even notice, too intent on obliterating Tyson on Rainbow Road to make any snide comments. But out of the corner of his eye Tyson can see Nate, EJ and what looks like half the WAGs all staring at them. Which, is just plain disturbing. And distracting. Tyson’s trying to play a fucking game here, and it’s bad enough that he can feel Gabe’s heart beating against his back, never mind just _knowing_ that Nate is gossiping about him over there.

“You suck at this,” Gabe whispers against his ear, breath hot and sweet with cinnamon. Tyson swears as Baby Peach drives off the edge of the road.

“You’re not helping,” Tyson hisses between his teeth, jamming his fingers against the buttons on the controller as Peach’s car is slowly lowered back onto the track. Almost immediately, Mikko elbows him hard at the same time as he launches a fucking green shell at him. “Fuck off Rants!” Tyson yells, kicking at him as he tries to swerve around the shell and just ends up spinning around aimlessly. “That’s cheating!”

“Shut it Barrie!” Barbs yells, reaching behind Mikko and Yaki to whack him upside the back of the head. Tyson scowls and tries to focus, mostly because he doesn’t want to finish 12th.

“Here,” Gabe says, soft, his hands covering Tyson’s on the controller. Tyson feels his eyes go wide and he shoots a glance over at Nate, who is watching with a gleeful grin on his face. He gives Tyson an obnoxious thumbs up. He’s legitimately the worst.

“Um,” Tyson mumbles, but he lets Gabe take over, taking Baby Peach easily from 12th to 8th, firing some bananas at Yaki and Mikko up ahead of them.

“Hey,” Yaki says, glancing briefly away from the screen to glare at Tyson. “That’s cheating! You can’t let Landy play for you!”

“The two of ‘em combined still can’t beat me,” Mikko says, giggling when Tyson reaches over and tries to cover his eyes with his hand. It’s kind of ineffective, considering Gabe’s arms are wrapped around him and kind of cutting into his range of movement. Not that he’s complaining, exactly, because obviously there’s no place he’s rather be, but still.

“You’re full of shit Rants!” Tyson yells, probably too loud. Gabe chuckles, and he can feel the vibrations through his entire body. He’s never going to recover from this.

“Hey Mikko,” Gabe says, his beard brushing against Tyson’s cheek as he talks. “Stick this in your juice box and suck it” Baby Peach suddenly transforms into Bullet Bill, speeding towards the front of the pack.

“Landy, you fucker!” Barbs yells, but it’s useless, Baby Peach crosses the finish line first.

Tyson almost kisses Gabe.

He doesn’t though – thank fucking god – but it’s a near thing. He’s just… he’s just an idiot who is way too drunk and Gabe’s all wrapped around him and they _won_. Luckily, Mikko jumps off the couch and flicks Tyson in the back of the head, before stomping off. The movement has Tyson sliding off Gabe’s lap slightly, and all of a sudden there’s no real reason for them to be all cuddled up any more.

“I’m gon’ be so hungover tomorrow,” Gabe groans as Yaki and Barbs follow Mikko’s lead, Barbs giving Tyson a noogie because he’s a jerk.

“Ugh,” Tyson says. He feels sleepy suddenly, and a little dizzy, and Gabe’s thighs look like the perfect place to lay his head. “We could just stay drunk.” Against his better judgement he stretches out on the couch with his head in Gabe’s lap. Gabe’s fingers brushing through his hair is a pleasant surprise, and his other arm resting across Tyson’s chest is even better, and Tyson hazily thinks that maybe Gabe has a Tyson Thing to match his Gabe Thing.

“As cute as this is, we need to go home.” Tyson cracks his eyes open to find Nate standing over him. He looks way too smug for this hour, especially considering the amount of alcohol they’ve all consumed, and Tyson doesn’t trust him.

“Go away,” Tyson grumbles, pressing his face into Gabe’s stomach. “I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Gabe echoes. “Go away.” Tyson is so in love with him.

“Nope, time to go big guy,” EJ cuts in. “I will literally carry your ass out of here Brutes, so get up.”

“That sounds pretty good actually,” Tyson mumbles, but he sits up slowly anyways, more than a little pleased when Gabe’s hand drags slowly across his chest. “Nathan, can you carry me?”

“No,” Nate says, pulling him to his feet.

Nate does help him into his coat though, and gets a car for them back to Nate’s place. And he practically carries Tyson inside the house, probably because Tyson slips and almost dies on the front steps but Nate’s also just like, the best friend ever.

“You are the best,” Tyson attempts to pat Nate’s chest as Nate dumps him unceremoniously into the guest bed.

“Tell me that in the morning.” Nate yanks Tyson’s shoes off his feet. “You’re the biggest pain in the ass.”

“But you love me, right?” Tyson asks, attempting to sit up but promptly laying back down when the room starts to spin.

“Unfortunately.”

“Love you too,” Tyson smiles into the darkness. “You should cuddle me.”

“Nope,” Nate snaps, but he sounds like he might be smiling.

“Hey,” Tyson pushes himself up on his elbows. “I think Gabe might have a Tyson thing.”

Nate laughs and presses a kiss to Tyson’s forehead. “No shit, Sherlock, go to fucking sleep please.”

So Tyson does.

* * *

 

 Tyson wakes up with a rolling stomach and a mouth that tastes like dead fish. At least his head doesn’t hurt though, and after he gets newly acquainted with the porcelain throne in Nate’s guest bathroom and brushes his teeth, he feels vaguely human. He can hear Nate down in the kitchen, so he grabs his phone and shuffles down the stairs, frowning at all the Instagram notifications on his screen. He finally figures out that Nate posted a photo of them, and it doesn’t actually seem all that bad, at first glance.

_Happy Holidays from Nate Dogg, T-Beauty and the rest of the boys #prettyflyforwhiteguys #thenoghitsyafast_

The photo is of Nate and Tyson with their arms around each other, eyes still clear and clutching red solo cups in their hands. It’s kind of adorable, really, and Tyson double taps as he settles down into his usual stool at the kitchen island. His eyes catch on some of the comments below, and he squints. Everyone seems to be making fun of him, which is totally uncalled for considering the quality of the photo. He’s not even doing anything embarrassing. And then he realizes there’s _several_ photos.

“Oh no,” Tyson groans. He can feel Nate staring at him, but he ignores him, instead focusing on the horror that is this godforsaken Instagram post. There’s a picture of him and EJ getting balloons stuffed into their union suits, a picture of Tyson laying on the floor at Gabe’s feet, one of Nate and Tyson standing under the mistletoe and making kissy faces at each other. Those aren’t even that bad. Because of course, Nate also included a photo of Nate, Gabe, Mikko, Teri and Barbs playing Mario Kart _and_ the photographic evidence of Tyson asleep on Gabe’s lap. “I hate you.”

“It’s cute,” Nate says, scrambling eggs. “Plus, last night you told me I was the best and you love me, no take backs.”

“This is humiliating!” Tyson squawks, not at all impressed with the grin spreading across Nate’s face. “You are the _worst_!”

“Gotta get them likes,” Nate shrugs, scooping eggs onto a paper plate. He adds a cup of yogurt and some apple slices and sets the plate in front of Tyson. “Plus, it’s really not that bad Tys. You were drunk.”

Tyson huffs and takes a bite of eggs, scowling when Nate is already holding out a bottle of hot sauce before he can ask. “There’s a picture of me sitting on Gabe’s lap… on the internet.”

“The one of us under the mistletoe is worse, I think,” Nate shrugs, settling onto the stool beside Tyson. “Everyone’s mostly making fun of you for falling asleep… party foul, bro.”

“Don’t _bro_ me, Nathan,” Tyson grumbles, but he keeps eating his breakfast anyways. Nate’s right, is the thing, and no one would every suspect Tyson has the hots for Gabe just because he got photographed sitting on his lap. It’s not the most incriminating picture he’s ever seen of two hockey players, and the world tends to just naturally go the epic bromance route.

By the time they head to afternoon skate, Tyson has mostly forgiven Nate. It’s hard to stay mad at him anyways, seeing as he made Tyson breakfast _and_ agreed to watch The Proposal with him after. So when they enter the locker room Tyson’s head is full of Ryan Reynolds shirtless, which is why he’s momentarily confused by the smirks Kerfy and Rants are shooting him.

“What up dudes?” Tyson asks in his most obnoxious bro voice. Rants rolls his eyes, but Kerfy just looks mildly delighted.

“I’m surprised you’re here old man!” Kerfy chirps. “Looks like you went a little overboard last night.”

Tyson scowls at him, letting out a huff when he sees that his stall is filled with printed versions of the photos of him and Landy. “Listen here college boy,” he starts, wagging a finger in Kerfy’s direction. “I can handle my fucking liquor.”

“Looks like it,” Soda says, and Tyson flips him off.

Deciding to take the high road, Tyson tries to focus on getting dressed for practice and not like, murdering his teammates. It works out pretty well, considering that Nate clears the pictures out of Tyson’s stall and tosses them in Landy’s stall.

“Sorry bud,” Nate mutters, soft. He looks it too, so Tyson just smiles and bumps their elbows together. Nate really is the best.

“What the fuck?” Tyson’s half dressed when he hears Gabe’s voice, but he can’t help turning around. Gabe’s got the photographs in his hands, half crumpled from Nate’s efforts, his eyebrows dipping low over those blue eyes. It’s almost pretty, the way a flush starts to spread from high on Gabe’s cheekbones to his entire face and down his neck. Tyson has the distinct urge to get his mouth on it, which means that when Gabe looks up and makes very clear eye contact with him, he’s blushing too.

“Jesus Christ,” Nate mutters behind him. Under normal circumstances, Tyson would probably flip him off. Right now, though, he’s kind of stuck looking at Gabe. Which is… a lot.

“We really got into that eggnog, huh Brutes?” Gabe asks, smiling and blushing and generally ruining Tyson’s life. Tyson wants to argue, wants to point out that he’s pretty sure Gabe nursed a whole two beers the entire night, wants to say that he remembers every single part of Gabe’s arms wrapped around him with disturbing clarity.

“That’s how it goes when you hang with T-Beauty and Nate Dogg,” Tyson says instead, earning rather rude snorts from Rants and EJ and a grateful smile from Gabe. It’s fine, really. “Try and keep up, Landesnerd.”

Later, when Gabe’s got him pinned up against the glass and they’re both breathless and laughing Tyson remembers. He remembers the smell of Gabe’s laundry detergent and the soft tug of Gabe’s fingers in his hair. He has Gabe smiling down at him as he remembers thinking that maybe, just maybe, Gabe has a thing for Tyson.

The thought alone has his stomach flipping, and Tyson can feel a flush rising on his cheeks. Part of him wants to discount it entirely. The likelihood of someone who looks like Gabe being interested in someone like him should be slim to none. But there’s a voice in the back of his head (that sounds suspiciously like Nate) telling him that he’s an idiot, and to just open his god damn eyes. So, while Tyson doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he does start to pay attention.

“You look weird,” Nate says as they watch Kerfy fire a slap shot at Bernier.

“Do you think Gabe has a Tyson Thing?” Tyson whispers, squinting in Gabe’s direction. He’s laughing, all golden and sparkly as he and Barbs wrestle for a puck.

“Yes.” Nate sighs. “Can you do something about it? This whole thing is getting old.”

“Can I – what do you expect me to _do_ , Nathan?” Tyson squawks, pushing hard against Nate’s chest and trying not to laugh as he slides backward on the ice. Nate opens his mouth to undoubtedly say something stupid, but he’s interrupted by the sharp blow of a whistle.

“MacKinnon, Barrie!” Bennett yells, clapping his hands. “Let’s go! Quit standing around!”

“Yeah boys! Look alive!” Gabe chimes in from across the ice. Tyson can’t believe he’s in love with him.

* * *

 

He doesn’t really think about it, over the next couple of days. They go on a short road trip before Christmas, to LA and then to AZ and Tyson needs to focus on playing hockey. Personally, he has a good couple of games, getting a nice goal on a sick assist from Nate, and adding a few more assists of his own. The whole team is buzzing after their win in Arizona, the plane ride home loud with Christmas music and card games.

Tyson’s content to curl up in his seat and watch the shenanigans for now, shouting out unsolicited commentary on Nate’s nonexistent poker face at random. He’s got his legs in Nate’s empty seat and has wrapped himself up in his favorite fleece blanket, bag of Doritos in his lap when Gabe appears out of nowhere. He looks… he looks annoyingly good, with his dumb golden hair all messy and his sleepy eyes and his inappropriately sized sweatpants. Tyson narrows his eyes, in no sort of mood to trust anyone who walks around looking like that.

“Can I sit?” Gabe asks, even as he lifts Tyson’s feet and plops his ass down in Nate’s seat. He settles Tyson’s legs back across his lap, which is an interesting development. The butterflies in Tyson’s stomach flutter. It’s terrible.

“Dorito?” Tyson asks, shaking the bag in Gabe’s direction. Gabe laughs but he takes a handful of chips, and Tyson kind of wants to die. “You’re really setting us up for another Instagram fiasco,” Tyson says, because he’s an idiot who can’t let himself have nice things. But Gabe just laughs, one hand sneaking under Tyson’s blanket and squeezing his ankle.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he says, smiling directly at Tyson. It leaves Tyson breathless in the best way possible. Which means the two of them end up just kind of smiling at each other for a good two minutes. It’s… it’s fine, Tyson is _fine_ , really.

“So,” Tyson chokes out around a mouthful of chips, since clearly stuffing his face is the best way he knows to deal with whatever this is. “Got big Christmas plans in the Landesnerd household?”

Gabe’s smile falters, which is the exact opposite of what Tyson is trying to accomplish here. “Well you know, my parents usually can’t come over from Sweden so I used to spend it with Dutchy.”

“Oh,” Tyson says, reaching out and wrapping his hand loosely around Gabe’s forearm. He knew this already, he just forgot, and now he feels like he needs to fix it. “You should come over to mine,” he finds himself offering. “My family’s coming in, I think we’re going to Nate’s Christmas Eve, and we’ll be home on Christmas. You should totally come.”

“Thanks, Tys,” Gabe says with a sad smile. “That’s kind of you… I’m not… I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, but I’ll let you know.”

If this was Nate, or Brayden or his sister, Tyson would push the issue. He’s pretty good at wearing people down through sheer annoyance, but whatever this is with Gabe makes him not want to mess anything up. So instead he settles back against the side of the plane and wiggles his toes. “Feel free to massage my feet while you’re just sitting there.” He smirks widely at Gabe’s raised eyebrows, expecting Gabe to push his feet off his lap. Instead Gabe tilts his head slightly and shoots him this sly grin. “What are you doing?” Tyson goes to pull his feet back, but Gabe grabs his ankles, holding him in place. Tyson does _not_ get a boner or anything, obviously. He’s just uh, extra grateful for the blanket covering his lap.

“Relax,” Gabe says, as if his face and his voice don’t elicit the exact opposite reaction in Tyson. He presses his thumb into the ball of Tyson’s foot. A groan slips from Tyson’s lips before he can stop it, his head thumping against the wall behind him as he tosses it back. Gabe doesn’t let up, running his thumb up and down the length of Tyson’s foot, slow and… and _good_.

“That’s uh, nice,” he forces out, cheeks hot with it. It’s even worse when Gabe’s eyes clearly darken, his eyelids going heavy and his lips parting slightly as he stares at Tyson.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice low and scratchy and different. Tyson swallows and he swears Gabe tracks the bob of his throat.

Gabe totally has a Tyson Thing.

* * *

 

“This should totally be a new tradition,” Sarah, Nate’s sister, says, tipping a wine glass back against her lips. She, Nate, Tyson and his sister, Vic, are spread out in Nate’s living room, the rest of the house dark apart from the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Tyson’s parents had left for his house about an hour ago, and Nate’s parents had retired to one of the guest bedrooms not long after.

“As if you getting drunk on Christmas Eve wasn’t already a tradition,” Nate grumbles, but he laughs when Sarah kicks his leg, hard.

“We should tell each other secrets,” Vic says, her eyes doing that thing where they almost cross. Tyson shakes his head, preparing a comment about slumber parties and Barbie dolls when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s kind of late for any of his friends, especially since everyone is busy with their families so Tyson fumbles for it. He frowns when he sees a text from Gabe, suddenly remembering their conversation on the plane and feeling guilty for never following up with him on it.

**Landy:** Hey – Merry Christmas bud, just wanted to let you know I won’t be coming over tomorrow or anything. Thanks for the invite + enjoy your family time :)

“You invited Gabe to Christmas?” Vic asks, loudly, in Tyson’s ear. Tyson swears and jerks away from her, clutching his phone to his chest.

“I – what – _no_ , go away Victoria!” He shoves his phone quickly back into his pocket, all too aware of his sister’s tendency to steal his phone and send embarrassing things to people.

“Are you _blushing_?” Sarah asks, and really, Tyson does not need to have _two_ sisters on his case.

“I honestly thought I could have a whole 48 hours without talking about Landeskog,” Nate sighs, taking a sip of wine like the dramatic asshole that he is. He doesn’t even _like_ wine. “And yet here we are.”

“We don’t even have to talk about it,” Tyson offers, pasting on a fake smile. “Let’s talk about something else, anything else!”

“Yeah, no,” Vic says, turning her attention to Nate, eyes suddenly sharp like she hadn’t drunk at least a bottle of red by herself. “Is it finally happening? Is Tys gonna make a move on Captain Sexy Pants.”

“ _Captain Sexy Pants_?” Tyson asks. No one even acknowledges him, which is typical. Rude, but still typical.

Nate’s laughing, which is also rude, because Tyson’s pretty sure it’s at his expense. “Yeah, the likelihood of Brutes actually making a move is slim to none.”

“Hey!” Tyson squawks. “That’s unfair!”

“Well, are you?” Nates asks, at the same time as Sarah says,

“I’d think inviting him to Christmas counts as a move.”

“Okay I dunno about that,” Tyson says in response to Sarah, choosing to ignore Nate for now. “But Gabe usually spends Christmas with Dutchy, and now… well you know…” All three seem to be hanging on his every word, so Tyson pauses to take a sip of wine as if this is a dignified conversation and not an absolute shit show. “I couldn’t let him spend Christmas alone! But I invited him to tonight or tomorrow when we were on the plane back from Arizona.”

“Before or after Gabe gave you a foot rub and you basically orgasmed in front of everyone?” Nate asks, grinning proudly. Tyson is going to kill him.

Vic is pretending to gag, Sarah looks absolutely delighted, and Tyson hates them all. “Okay you know what,” Tyson starts, the joy of making his sister uncomfortable winning over his self-preservation instincts. “Gabe was into it, okay? You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“Oh I did,” Nate says, expression clearly warring between amusement and disgust. “I even took pictures.” He pulls out his phone and the girls scramble towards him, Sarah giggling and Vic going into another round of fake gagging in response.

Tyson must look, obviously, though part of him knows he doesn’t really want to know. It’s… it’s embarrassing, on his part, his head tilted back and the tendons in his neck tense. If it wasn’t him it might be hot, except for the fuzzy blue blanket bunched up in his lap. Gabe though, looks like pure sex, his eyes hooded and staring intently at Tyson’s face, his big hands wrapped around Tyson’s feet.

“Yeah,” Tyson croaks, face hot as he hands the phone back to Nate. “Gabe totally has a Tyson Thing.”

* * *

 

“You should go get your boy,” Vic whispers after they’ve opened presents and snacked on homemade cinnamon rolls and coffee. She looks ridiculous, with her reindeer pajamas and her hair piled on top of her head. Of course, Tyson has matching pajamas, and his hair is probably incredibly wild, so he has no room to talk.

“What are you talking about?” He hisses back, shooting a nervous look at his dad dozing in the easy chair. The last thing he needs is either of his parents getting wind of this.

“You can’t leave Gabe all alone on Christmas,” Vic explains around a piece of cinnamon roll. “So go like, make out or whatever, and then bring him and his dog back here for dinner.”

Tyson wants to argue, it’s in his nature, really, but then he starts to think about Gabe sitting all alone in his condo on Christmas. Even if he didn’t want to have slow, hot, sex with him on the living room floor while the snow falls outside, he wouldn’t want him to be alone on Christmas.

“Yeah okay,” he says, finally. “I’m gonna shower than I’ll go. But you gotta keep Mom and Dad distracted.” Vic salutes him, because she’s an asshole – it runs in the family, apparently.

“This is my Christmas present for you, by the way,” she says. Tyson hates her.

Tyson doesn’t really think about what he’s doing until he’s turning onto Gabe’s street. He should have texted first, or called, or something. Only assholes show up at someone’s house on Christmas unannounced. He considers just like, driving by, but he’s pretty sure that’d be even creepier than just showing up. His heart is beating hard in his chest and his ears and behind his eyes, and it’s just so _stupid_. Gabe is his friend, over everything, and there’s no reason he should be nervous about rescuing his friend from the most lonesome Christmas ever. With that in mind, he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, and knocks.

Zoey starts barking immediately, followed soon by Gabe’s soft voice, trying to calm her down. It seems to take ages for the door to crack open, and Tyson’s pretty sure his heart might beat out of his chest.

“Hey,” Gabe says as he opens the door, face all confused as he holds Zoey back with one hand. He’s clearly still in his pajamas, a clingy white t-shirt and gray sweats, his hair sticking up in a million directions. He looks so good Tyson kind of wants to die.

“Merry Christmas!” Tyson half sings, holding up the tin of cinnamon buns he’d filched from the kitchen when his mom wasn’t looking. “Can I come in?”

Gabe still looks confused, but he nods, stepping back so that Tyson can slip inside. Tyson decides the best course of action is to just act like this whole thing is normal, so he steps out of his shoes and hangs up his coat, setting the tin on the kitchen counter before turning his attention to a very excited Zoey. Gabe follows slowly behind him, and Tyson can feel his eyes on him as he gives Zoey one last pat.

“Listen,” he says as he straightens, preparing himself for an argument. “I know that-“ he stops short as Gabe steps into his space, pressing him back against the kitchen counter. “Um…”

“I’m just gonna kiss you,” Gabe says, his voice all low again. Tyson nods, too many times and too fast, but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Gabe smiles, all fond, his hands curl around Tyson’s hips, and this is going to be the death of him.

Tyson pulls Gabe in the rest of the way and pushes his hands into the ridiculous hair, and then they’re kissing.

When Tyson imagined this moment, he’d always thought it’d be messy and wild, in the middle of an argument or with mouths tasting of beer. Instead, he gets Gabe soft and warm and tasting of coffee, kissing him likes there’s nothing else in the world he’s rather be doing. Gabe hums against his lips and tilts his head, their noses sliding against each other. Tyson traces his tongue against Gabe’s bottom lip, electricity zipping up and down his spine when Gabe moans and parts his lips. Their tongues meet, and Tyson starts to sweat, toes curling in his socks against the hardwood floors.

“God, you’re so…” Gabe trails off, pressing kisses to the corner of Tyson’s mouth, along his jaw, kisses turning biting as he moves down Tyson’s neck, pushes his shirt aside to get to the curve of his shoulder.

“ _Gabe_ ,” Tyson chokes, finger tightening in Gabe’s hair and dragging his mouth back to his own. This time they kiss open mouthed, edging on frantic. Tongues and teeth and lips clashing and biting and Tyson might legitimately die.

“Come here.” Tyson let’s Gabe drag him towards the living room with his hand fisted in the front of his flannel shirt, barely holds in a moan when Gabe pushes him down on the couch and straddles him. He’s heavy and he’s all over Tyson and it’s just a lot, all around.

“Merry Christmas too me,” Tyson says, because he’s an idiot who can’t help himself, honestly.

Gabe tilts his head back and laughs. “You’re such a loser.”

“You like it,” Tyson says, smirking until Gabe starts kissing him again, his fingers fumbling at the buttons of Tyson’s shirt.

“Why are there so many buttons,” Gabe grumbles, sitting back to glare down at Tyson’s shirt. His hands are shaking, and it’s just… a lot, knowing that it’s Tyson that’s made Gabe come undone like this.

“I got this,” Tyson says, yanking his flannel and undershirt off over his head at once. He wants to be embarrassed – he’s not a shirt off kind of guy – but Gabe’s eyes are dark and his chest is heaving, and he kind of looks like he wants to eat Tyson alive. “Stop looking at me like that.” Tyson’s voice comes out high and breathy. It’s terrible.

“Why?” Gabe’s fingers trace almost reverently across Tyson’s collarbones and down his chest, followed closely by his lips pressing chaste kisses to Tyson’s skin. His beard tickles, and his lips are incredibly soft, and Tyson might actually die from this.

“Hey, your shirt too,” Tyson says instead of explaining himself, tugging ineffectively at Gabe’s t-shirt. Gabe just sort of hums against his skin, sucking what’s probably going to be an impressive hickey right over Tyson’s heart. “Quit denying me your bod,” Tyson whines, smiling when Gabe sighs and finally sits back.

“You’re so needy,” Gabe says, but he’s grinning, and he definitely pulls off his shirt a little slower than necessary.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Tyson chants, grabbing for the stupid shirt and throwing it across the room. “Jesus Christ Gabe,” he sighs and lets his hands curl around Gabe’s thick shoulders, sliding slowly down over his biceps then back up again. “You’re so…”

Gabe kisses him before he can finish that undoubtedly embarrassing sentence. Tyson’s grateful, especially considering that they’re now chest to chest, no clothing between them, and all he can feel is Gabe’s skin. Tyson breathes in deeply through his nose, forcing himself to take control of the situation and slow everything down. He curls a hand around the back of Gabe’s neck and holds him close, fucking his tongue slowly in and out Gabe’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Gabe moans against his lips, hips starting to roll against Tyson’s. Part of Tyson wants to lean back and watch the flex of Gabe’s hips, wants to stare at all those abs and the v of his hips and just drool a little bit. But that would mean he’d have to stop kissing him, and that’s just not an option right now. Instead he presses his hand against the tented front of Gabe’s sweats. Gabe groans and grinds against his palm, and Tyson might like, die.

Instead of dying, Tyson shoves at the front of Gabe’s pants, a little disappointed when Gabe laughs and leans back. “Take off yours too,” Gabe says, breathless, as he climbs off Tyson’s lap and kicks off his sweatpants and boxers. Tyson’s kind of busy just staring at Gabe’s big, thick, golden _everything_ to concentrate on anything like unbuttoning his jeans. “Come on, let’s go,” Gabe says, cheeks pink and one hand curled around his own dick.

“Relax,” Tyson replies, refusing to look away from Gabe as he attempts to blindly undo his button and fly.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Gabe snaps, but he’s still grinning, and if Tyson had his wits about him he probably would have taken out his phone and _tried_. Instead he gets Gabe pushing his hands aside and unbuttoning his jeans, yanking them down his thighs with his boxers rough enough that Tyson almost falls off the couch.

“Hey!” Tyson starts to protest but before he can get anything else out Gabe is on top of him again, curling one big hand around both their dicks. It’s too dry but Tyson still sees stars, his hips bucking up against Gabe’s. Tyson spits into his hand and joins Gabe’s, pulling Gabe’s face to his with his other hand. They kiss and kiss, until Tyson’s toes start to curl, and he presses his face to the curve of Gabe’s shoulder instead, pressing open mouthed kisses to his skin. “Fuck,” Tyson chokes, his thighs starting to shake. “I’m gonna…”

“Yeah me too,” Gabe says, his teeth scraping against the side of Tyson’s neck. The sharp sting has Tyson coming with a groan, and he slumps back against the couch, vaguely registering Gabe swearing above him. Gabe follows soon after, cum striping hot across Tyson’s chest. It’s absolutely disgusting; Tyson loves it.

Gabe slumps onto the couch beside him with a groan. Tyson forces his eyes open so he can look at him, trying to commit the sleepy eyes, fucked out smile and flushed skin to memory. “Hey,” Gabe says when he catches Tyson looking, almost like he’s shy.

“Hey,” Tyson smiles back, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth.

“So,” Gabe starts, because of course he can’t just enjoy an afterglow like a normal human. “This uh… this happened.”

“Let’s talk about this over cinnamon buns,” Tyson offers, sitting up and reaching for his jeans.

“How are you even thinking about food right now,” Gabe grumbles, but he pulls on his sweats, forgoing a shirt probably because he lives to torture Tyson.

“I don’t really think there’s much to talk about,” Tyson says once they make it to the kitchen. He peels the tin foil off the top of the cinnamon buns, taking a deep breath of sugary goodness.

“Really?” Gabe asks, eyebrows raised as he carefully cuts out a piece of roll with his fork. “You think you can just storm in here on Christmas morning and have sex with me and not have to explain anything?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Tyson scowls in an attempt to hide his blush, ripping off a too big piece of cinnamon roll and shoving it in his mouth.

“I’ll go first,” Gabe announces, like he thinks he’s going to one-up Tyson or something. “I’m like, super into you, have been for a while, really.”

Tyson’s pretty sure his face closely resembles a tomato at this point. Gabe’s looking at him through his eyelashes, all shy and honest and really, he doesn’t deserve him. “Same, dude,” Tyson says, immediately wanting to sink into the floor and die.

“Did you just _hashtag same_ my confession of love?” Gabe asks, and he’s laughing with all his teeth and his eyes are crinkling in the corners. He looks absolutely beautiful, with the early morning sun streaming in the windows and lighting up his skin, lips sticky with icing and cinnamon and faint hickeys blooming on his neck. So really, Tyson can’t be blamed for what he says next.

“I’m totally in love with you.”

The kitchen goes quiet except for the click of Zoey’s toenails against the hardwood. Tyson forces himself to maintain eye contact with Gabe, refusing to take the words back. It’s worth it when Gabe grins wide, his eyes legitimately sparkling. “Same, dude.”

* * *

 

“I’m back!” Tyson announces as he shoves open the front door of his house, letting Zoey bound in ahead of him.

“Where have you been – oh,” Tyson’s mom trails off, eyes going wide and flicking between Gabe and Zoey bouncing around at her feet.

“You know Gabe,” Tyson explains as he throws his coat over the back of the couch, “And this is Zoey. They’re here for dinner.” To his mom’s credit she takes it in stride, the wide smile returning to her face as she pats Zoey carefully on the head before dragging Gabe into the kitchen and plying him with appetizers and wine.

“Your hair is a disaster,” Vic smirks at him over her glass of wine, Zoey halfway in her lap.

“ _You’re_ a disaster,” Tyson shoots back, earning himself an unimpressed look from his dad. It’s whatever, he can handle it. Being mean to each other on Christmas is kind of a family tradition anyways.

Dinner actually goes better than expected. Gabe fits in with his family easily, flirting gently with his mom, swapping hockey talk with his dad and making snide comments about Tyson’s dessert consumption with Vic. Tyson doesn’t mind, considering the fact that Gabe hooked their ankles together under the table as soon as they sat down, and they stay that way through two courses, dessert, and several bottles of wine.

“You should totally come to Christmas Eve next year,” Vic says as they move to the living room, the opening menu for Die Hard up on the TV screen.

“Yeah?” Gabe looks surprised, like he thought his welcome wouldn’t extend into infinity.

“Yeah,” Vic smirks, and Tyson just _knows_ what’s coming next. “We get drunk with Nate and Sarah and harass Tyson,” she continues, shooting a sweet smile in Tyson’s direction. “It’s the best.”

“Yeah,” Gabe smiles and presses his thigh tightly against Tyson’s. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

 

On New Year’s Eve they’ve got a home game against the Islanders. The energy in the Can is unreal as they take the ice, the crowd screaming as the lights flash red and blue.

“Hey,” Nate nudges Tyson’s arm and points towards the glass, where a bunch of girls are jumping around with signs.

TYSON YOU CAN BARRIE 1 IN MY 5 HOLE one of the signs reads, held by a girl who hides her face when she catches Tyson looking at her.

Across the ice Gabe waggles his eyebrows at him, grin going wide and a little mean. “Ew. I hate this,” Nate grumbles under his breath, turning completely away from Gabe and glaring down at Tyson.

“I’ll take care of that later,” Gabe murmurs as Tyson lines up beside him for the national anthem, their shoulders bumping. Tyson feels his cheeks flush, images of Gabe naked and warm and all over him flashing through his head.

“Can we _not_ ,” Nate hisses, but Gabe just grins, proud.

Later, as it closes in on midnight, Gabe has Tyson pressed against the outside wall of EJ’s house, close enough to a window that they can clearly hear the party inside. “That goal was fucking filthy,” Gabe whispers, his teeth grazing Tyson’s ear. “Pretty sure I popped a boner immediately.”

“Jesus,” Tyson laughs, pulling Gabe closer as their teammates start counting down inside the house.

“You’re just so fucking hot,” Gabe continues, smiling like an idiot, his eyes a little hazy.

“And you’re fucking drunk,” Tyson says, but he still feels warm and tingly all over with the way Gabe’s looking at him, like he’s the best thing on earth.

Tyson kisses Gabe as the clock strikes midnight inside the house, clutching at his shoulders as they enter the new year.

“They grow up so fast.” Tyson flinches at the voice floating out the window, eyes narrowing immediately.

“Hey, at least we accomplished our resolution from last year,” another voice says, following by the sound of slapping hands.

“Hey!” Gabe says, all happy and soft and dumb. “It’s Nate and EJ! Look, Tys!”

“Shouldn’t you two be kissing girls instead of spying on me?” Tyson asks as he twists around, glaring through the window at his friends’ smirks.

“Shouldn’t you two be in here socializing like normal people?” EJ shoots back. Gabe giggles and presses his face into the side of Tyson’s neck, his beard tickling against the skin. Tyson grins at EJ and Nate and threads his fingers into Gabe’s hair, enjoying the way their expressions war between amusement and disgust.

“We’ll be in in a sec,” Tyson says, before guiding Gabe’s mouth to his own.

“Ugh.”

“We did this to ourselves.”

“Take you time, Jesus Christ.”

Tyson smiles against Gabe’s lips. He certainly plans to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! I also have a [tumblr](http://www.bkmarchand.tumblr.com)


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